EC "Soho Farm"



  • What do you associate with Canada? With hockey and the world famous Canadian syrup? Or maybe you represent virgin forests, mighty grizzlies and crystal clear lakes? In any case, you can hardly imagine a small complex, focused on the classic types of riding, and it is in the forests of Canada near Edmonton opened its doors a small complex called Soho Farm. Founded as a farm for breeding horses, Soho has experienced not a few problems in his lifetime. Twice it was destroyed by fire, having found new owners, he is happy to offer you his services. On 15 acres of land, a small stable for 30 heads found shelter with all the necessary infrastructure to ensure normal life for the horses and regular training, as well as a large residential house intended for the permanent residence of athletes in it. We hope that Soho will become your second home.
    We are the cats inside. We are cats that can not walk by themselves, and we have only one refuge.



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  • My English is not quite perfect as I would like, I bring my apologies. I hope you understand something. I will try to write simply and competently
    The days grew shorter and the nights colder. The wind was walking around Canada, trying to meet at least one traveler.
    Bulky hooves are stuck in the quagmire, but this does not stop the coachman. He continues to march towards obscurity, gazing down the hollow with his eyes. The reins tighten in his hands. Fog spreads on the ground, hiding a deceptive swamp that irretrievably takes lives on the endless bottom. Wide breasts of Vermouth rise with each heavy sigh. His eyes slip apathetically over the surface of the earth, when the body senses with each cell how slowly it sinks. The mane waves descend the neck downwards, developing from every breath of the wind. Cold pervades, twists, tests. Dead and ruthless, he creeps under the light shirt of a drunken coachman, trying to break the nasty temper of that. He likes to mock, but he loses this war. The coachman remains unshakably calm.
    Long fingers were already reddish from the cold, but they also held the reins firmly.
    "We're almost there," the coachman said.
    The eyes blinded the sun, and we left the gloomy thicket, on a wide path, in the distance, we could see the haymaker in which we were actually heading.
    Vermouth swallows a pale morning, cold air with light, touching the green trail with his feet, and his skin is cast by gold. He's tired of snoring. Then we went easy trot. The air is especially fresh in the morning. You inhale, slowly and unhurriedly feeling the taste of solitude and silence, sweet, intoxicating, leaving a bitter aftertaste. Loneliness is like alcohol - it does not like children, but adults whip it and enjoy it. It's strange.
    The sun covers the tops of the pines with honey light, and the fog is spread out with a white soft veil. Ghostly and transparent. Vermouth's hooves fall into the wet earth from the dew, the wheels are only half drowned in the mud.
    It smells of withering autumn and blunted-warm sun rays. So the smell of tea from rough mugs (from such it or him to drink where is more sincere).
    The cart reeled, and the Belarusian tired breathing out air moves on a slow pace. This knocks down all thoughts.
    -We came, again the same voice coachman.
    -Excellent .. We began to slowly drive up to a small hangar building, not far from grazing the local cow farm.
    Soon the first snow will begin, we must take away the winter hay.
    The horse stopped. We all jumped off the cart, leaving the coachman alone with himself.
    -Well ... shall we work? Mark simmered, but did not hear the answer.
    Everyone was like sleepy flies, someone is mired in some of their thoughts, and someone else was asleep.
    Everything started so well, how long will this last? ...
    How long will we last here?
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  • Yeeeeah, you finally here <3



  • @Alexandra-Yashirina Only thanks to you:cupid:



  • The debut of Synphrophazatron at Maiden Special Weight in "Stellar Phoenix" Park. (RES)
    As we walk in a straight line
    Down in the dirt with a landslide
    It has begun.
    An exciting and indistinct start to the day before important jumps. Ethan nervously touches his fingers in front of the wooden door. It seems that this will not do. Gathered with all his remaining strength, the brunette nervously crossed the threshold of the locker room, opening the door for himself. A cold-blooded face, beside which was kept a certain fear, was inherent in the calm appearance of a man. Ethan did a little bit of this race, because it was in this race that most of the pairs made a strong competition. Even more strongly she was seized by the idea of ​​a false start - this would be a fairly possible phenomenon with all the aspiration of the horse to run forward, raising its tail. But the capture is a strong self-confidence and self-hypnosis. Support from strangers was a provocation. Provocation to a clean victory, whether in the head or in two tails. The Derb was slightly embarrassed. The idea that he did not succeed in finding him in a rush. Glancing at his colleagues, who every now and then, that boisterously enjoyed themselves on the sidelines, the man smiled slightly and again began to inspire himself with his own abilities and powers. At least, hope died last.
    At that time, as he was already beginning to gradually move into the external world, confidence took up and was played with other feelings. Taking a plastic bottle from under the water and taking a few sips, Ethan sat on the bench. Having exchanged glances with the clock, thereby tearing out pieces, he began to knock with his boots. The knock resembled the blows of nervous waves on dead stones, while the sky in the meantime tried to play along to nature, languidly building the dark clouds of the district. The laughter of colleagues awakened Derba, which made him change his actions. It was easy to stay on the sidelines on the thought of Ethan, but to poke a bag of juice, I think, will be the most it. The stupid game was not interrupted, but every blow on the cardboard box more and more heated the man. Time seemed to flow like the movement of a land turtle. It's very tedious and languid. Expectations were increasingly spreading fear in the soul.
    From a soft turf on a tiring grass is as?
    One of the stages of the race is weighing. Ethan Derb calmly went to the weight. After greeting his colleagues and employees of the park, He followed the instructions. This stage is more understandable to him and is known, and in general, difficulties, like, should not cause. The horse starts in the third box. Opponents are not so few, but they are all worthy competitors. The mark on the clock showed seventy-four kilograms. Now there will be less hemorrhoids, and additional actions will be counted.
    The jockey spoke to his colleagues all the same. Their monotony was pleasantly surprised. So, the battle will be cruel and merciless? It was necessary to prepare for this.
    Unexpected dampness, UK customs ...? Abrupt change in temperature and weather? But the race is so easy to cancel no one is going. Synchrophasatron, apparently, and on that to spit, the horse behaves as though and a wind in eyes did not see. It sparkled. Glittered more than ever. His impudent and at the same time inspiring temper could lead anyone. The horse is beautiful. Inimitable horse, with the same zest, with the same spark of Bengal fire, which will never be extinguished. Synchrophasotron. Is not this the one you can expect from everything? It's him. A horse that stepped back the third. It can be seen that the weather suits him. He is still proud. End of pleasure. It's time to act!
    Riders up!
    It was quite expected. It could be felt.
    Feeding a foot in the cold palms of your partner for work. The man in the saddle. In the same cheese and unpleasant saddle. The stirrup slips out of Ethan's grubby fingers. He, despite the difficulties, took it and stuck his legs there. So, all is well. The horse shakes his head uncontrollably. The second heel held by the stirrup. After adjusting the helmet and adjusting the length of the strap, the jockey grabbing the leather whip with the armpits prepared. It was like a parade. The luminous crowd looked at horses with different fates. All of them did not humble and tense away. On the muzzle of one dark gray horse you could see absolute calm and understanding of the situation. It seemed immediately that this horse ten years in races.
    Ethan grabbed a piece of red mane along with a leather shoulder. The man was leading them in an official suit. Everything was nervous. British races on an unknown surface. Well, there will be a very interesting spectacle for the stands. Less than ten minutes later, as the couple was in a foggy field. Taking a shorter lead so that the sharp overload for the horse did not end up with a lamentable end, the brunette sent the horse into the lynx. Tribunes are teeming with the illuminated crowd. Some people with binoculars, because really to see something in this fog is incredibly difficult. The warm-up is over. We come to the boxes.
    To get Chronos? It's almost impossible! Okay, let's start with the fact that all the other participants stayed in the box more calmly while Ethan nearly fell from this red demon. It was equal to suicide.
    Cron did not obey, maybe felt wrong in this jump? Just like Flat Out, during the breeder's day. With difficulty managed to get a disobedient and recalcitrant stallion. He was as intolerant as ever. Or is it his crowd so scared?
    Through the efforts of the park's employees, it was possible to bring this demon into an enclosed space.
    May the main fun begin. The gate opens sharply, and our red creature also comes off. But not for long. The horse gives a little back. Apparently, the weather affected him so much. The man felt the horse with his body. Obtrusively digging to the horse with the power of thought, he tried to absorb his confidence in himself. But, the crow still remained on the back position. Especially it was not worth chasing him. Derb slightly subdued. But the horse began to break forth gradually. "Where eyes look". It was difficult to see something. So, we can say that he just ran forward, spending infinite energy. And in the same situation, the horse remained disobedient. The horses who were running behind were also slow to give the victory. Feeling of weightlessness. First turn. With the turn it becomes easier. At the turn, our reddish demon gains the necessary speed, which is enough throughout the race. Synchrophasatron nervously and anxiously selects an excuse for himself, he needs freedom of movement. The sounds are lost in themselves, the rabid crowd is deafeningly ringing in the ears, the clatter of hooves flies in the foreground. Mud and dust in the face - this is familiar. Ethan looks back and forth. As her coach said, it is not necessary to drive a horse in the beginning. Yes, all reminders that this horse is like a wild bear who escaped. The jockey felt the desire not only of the horse to get this fucking prize, but also its own. Yes. Up took a feeling, playing the main role. Chronos still convulsively tried to get the reason. Deficiency reins or what? The man paid attention to the steam from the swollen nostrils of the horse.
    The course of the race was the same. The air was filled with excitement.
    The latest furlongs! There remained imaginary seconds. The redhead tears forward in the opposite direction to the wind. Synchrophasatron snorts nervously, he no longer listens to the shortened reason. He manages to wrest it, in connection with which he simply rushes. It seemed that we are in an uncertain place, time does not flow. Everything stopped. The picture fell. The motivating blow of the whip gives the Synphrophazotron a slip. Like water through your fingers. The whip does not solve anything. The horse developed speed to the maximum. He does not have a second wind. He rushes forward, forward, forward. Everything was complicated. Finishing straight. The stunned crowd hits the eardrums. They seemed ready already to break to hell. Outbreaks of cameras hit the face. It was a difficult game.
    But nothing could ever stop us
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  • :exclamation: Many ask why it is "Farm"?
    The answer is simple!
    "Soho Farm" is the name of one of the largest farms in this province. Rather, once the largest. After increasing the popularization of bison in these parts, the economy quickly went bankrupt and became a kind of wasteland.
    The word "Farm" will remain in the title, as a reminder that once here the number of exterminated buffalo increased



  • I want to acquaint you with the main pride of Soho Farm!
    This is a Westphalian stallion Dancing Demon (by Homemade Demon and Dimka)
    Actively performs dressage and already almost completed his career.
    Has 5 descendants, (three of whom very successfully perform in dressage)
    At the moment he is 10 years old.
    I hope you fall in love with his beauty, as well as I once did
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  • Dancing Demon is stunning , and those edits WOW they are incredible :heart_eyes:
    (Hopefully it's okay that I comment)



  • Beautiful horses and edits! :)



  • And this little pet of our farm.
    The mare named LWA Elinor
    Born in Latvian Warmblood Association (RES)
    In the future we hope for a brilliant competitive career here (show jumping), At the moment she is four years old.
    At home her name is just Elina or Elia
    Attention! I remind my English not quite perfectly, as I would like, I apologize. I hope you understand something. I will try to write simply and competently
    Elionor is a young but promising sports horse. She has both a nice looking appearance, and high enough for her age sports skills.
    This is not a good-natured horse with big, kind eyes.
    This mare is a serious tournament fighter, not tolerant of insecure people next to her and especially on his own back. It is very complicated, hot and impatient, but you can find a common language with her. Embodiment of aristocratic pride, it will never condescend to roll around in sawdust or do something like this. She will never beat walls, throw hay and feed from the feeder - she will always be perfectly clean under any circumstances.
    In training: The mare is very active, completely gives herself to the rider. she jumps only from the right approach, so if the gray one works out badly - it's worth considering whether your skills are as good as you think.
    On a walk: Most of the time, like most local horses, she spends in Levada, and this time is enough for her everything: both to eat and to play pranks. However, it is not worthwhile to put her in a levada with someone, because of her hot nature, often provokes conflicts and several times hardly avoided serious injuries.
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  • @Kayla-Albright Many thanks, I'm very glad that you like.
    @Hayley-Quinn Thank you very much, all the same he struck not only my heart. No, you! I'm very happy with your comment



  • The morning, though not perfect, was wonderful. The wind made the skin goosebumps, he carried the cold breath of winter. She was getting closer and closer to Europe, capturing cities one by one.
    A little less than a month after the birth of the long-awaited foal of Newfoundland.
    Health of the foal's mother, Nivaella fell sharply a month after the scrap, she was not in the best condition, to put it mildly. Accustomed to seeing orlovtsev powerful, fat and happy, Randi could not imagine that this is a thin horse in front of her - a real representative of this breed.
    "You poor little beast," the girl sighed, holding out her hand between the bars
    Niva did not begin to caress, to ask to leave, but her palm sniffed and allowed herself to scrape herself on the nose.
    "Come on, do not be afraid," Randi whispered softly, pushing back the heavy door of the stall and carefully, not to scare, picking up the mare for the halter.
    "Let's go, the vet should look at you.."
    Nivaella became agitated, tried to rest and shake her head to break away, but the human hand held firmly and persistently to the exit of the stable. Noisily drawing in the air, as if verifying whether there was a smell of danger, the mare reluctantly took a step towards the girl and dutifully stepped out of the stall, behind him was already plump enough of the incomprehensible suit of the colt, awkwardly rearranging his legs.
    The veterinarian was not there, so Randi and Nivaella with her child went for a walk. The right person had to come in half an hour. It turned out that there is a mini-zoo on the territory of Soho! Something unusual for equestrian clubs aimed at the maintenance of private horses, and not the squeezing of money for skating and children's parties. The mare did not recognize the animals at the zoo at all. The same as she. Equal to her. In the end, Randy gave her a little pinch of herbs near the veterinary wing, while the vet searched for the mare's documents in the archive.
    Like any girl who feels embarrassed in the office of a female doctor, Nivaella resisted, perceiving the hands of a specialist on her stomach as something beyond what is permissible. From the smell of an antibacterial remedy, she sneezed and snorted and sadly squinted at the door.
    "Ah, lapushka, it's bad for you," Zavensky said sympathetically and laid his hand gently on her neck. But this tactile support acted differently on the mare. And the veterinarian hastily removed his hand. As it turned out - Niva is not only a rare touch, but she is also a real actress! When the veterinarian began to measure the temperature, Nivaella was so indignant that she forgot about her allergic disease. All straightened up, fluffed, and joined, and the expression of unbearable agony came down from the muzzle. Cheating is uncovered. Inspection did not last long. A few minutes later, the man straightened up
    "Well, what can I say ... Her health is much more stable than it was a week ago." No deviations in health so far, so ... It is possible to return them to the herd.
    At the inspection of Nyusha (so affectionately nicknamed Newfoundland still in Phoenix) He still mumbled something inaudibly, gently raised his face, looked.
    -And with him everything is as always in order. The veterinarian has punctured the documents back to the archive.
    -You can safely let them out in the herd even now.

    Knocking off and dancing in place, Nivella stubbornly pulled her "curator" to the Levads. And the nearer Randi approached the fence of the pasture, the more doubts swirled in her head. But it's too late to retreat ... at least because Niva can not be dragged out from here anymore .. The girl opened the fence and they went to the pasture. Nyusha immediately ran, and the mare began to spin.
    "All right, go," Anderson said, deliberately slowly letting go of her belt. Slapping the mare around her neck, girl pulled out of the fence and closed the gate tightly. Before the mother and her son galloped off to look for the beloved herd, Randi managed to take a photo happy boy Newfoundland
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  • Four yearold Russian horse stallion named Farlite.
    My Selection!
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  • Dancing Demon is so dreamy :heart_eyes: I love that type of bay! And Farlite is beautiful I love liver chestnuts. Also that first picture is amazing. I love all the pictures in your album. :heart:



  • What an adorable album you have here! Will definitely stalk you from now on :blush:


  • Competition Committee

    Holy cow! This album is full of pretties! I can't pick a favorite, show us more please!



  • Dancing demon :heart_eyes::heart_eyes:
    Also your edits are perfect! Love it c:


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